


As Lovers Do

by Mercurial_Magic



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Era, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Feminization, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive!Arthur, Power Play, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slutty!Merlin, Taboo, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurial_Magic/pseuds/Mercurial_Magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Gwaine's good intentions lead him astray, Merlin is far less innocent and far more artful than he appears, and Arthur can resist everything but temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Lovers Do

**Author's Note:**

> This took far longer to finish than I anticipated, but it's finally done! We can always use more kinky fics, so here you are.
> 
> Tagged with 'Mild Homophobia' because homosexuality is regarded as highly taboo to the characters (there's no abuse or actual conflict because of it).

A low rumble of thunder echoes across the grey sky as Gwaine quickly makes his way through the citadel. The rain has stopped for a few minutes, and he's thankful his boots aren't soaked through from the earlier downpour.

"What a rotten day," he hears a passing maid remark. "How's anyone supposed to get anything done in such conditions? All I want to do is crawl into bed!"

"I don't know, I can think of  _plenty_ to do in bed," another laughs.

While Gwaine would usually agree with the sentiment, he's a man on a mission today. He's wanted to treat Merlin to a few drinks for ages, but with Arthur keeping the poor lad so busy he hasn't had the chance. He isn't entirely certain what Merlin's duties entail in full, but surely the boy has  _some_  personal time. Regardless, his mind is made up: he's taking Merlin out today even if he has to drag him away from the Princess by his shabby neckerchief.

When he arrives at the physician's door, he doesn't knock and is already halfway across the room before he realizes that it's empty. Eyeing the door adjacent the endless shelves of books, he's about to call out when a deep groan stops him in his tracks.

In hindsight, he should have left right then; generally people don't appreciate others' eavesdropping, but curiosity is compelling and he's never claimed to be a strong man in the face of it. With careful steps he approaches the door, putting his ear a few inches from the wood.

"Don't tease," a familiar voice says, and Gwaine recognizes it immediately.

 _Arthur_ , his mind supplies.

The soft, breathy smack of lips, the sound of  _kissing_ Gwaine discerns with confusion, is all he hears for a long moment until another voice replies.

"Why not? We have time."

 _Arthur and... Merlin?_ he concludes with no small amount of shock. 

"Gaius' off to assist the Lady Alis. He won't return for a day at least, as all the castle's been made aware," Merlin continues, and Gwaine does suddenly recall hearing such information the previous night. But really, it's up to everyone else to remember where the physician might be when one's just won a bet of downing 5 cups of mead in 2 minutes.

"And if I recall you haven't anything else scheduled for today..."

"We should've went to my chambers," Arthur complains.

"So your knights could come knocking every five minutes like they did on your last free day? I think not."

Gwaine takes a step back to examine the door for any small holes or cracks to look through, finding that the keyhole below the knob is his only option. Pressing his face to the door, he looks in.

_By the Gods!_

An unbidden gasp leaves his lips at the sight before him; the Prince is seated on a small bed, breeches down to his ankles, with Merlin crouched between his legs. Gwaine goes still as Merlin's eyes slide over to his direction, and for a single, heart-pounding moment Merlin seems to look straight at him. But to his immense relief, Merlin dismisses the noise and quickly turns his focus back upon Arthur. Gwaine's mouth opens and closes comically as he watches Merlin stroke Arthur's manhood with a coquettish smile. However unfathomable, there is no denying their intentions now.

"Do you want me to suck it?" Merlin asks, his expression playfully demure.

Arthur's sharp intake of breath is concurrent to the small hitch of his hips. Did Merlin really intend to do something so sordid? Surely Arthur would refuse, he couldn't possibly let him-

"You know damn well I do," Arthur husks, fingers carding through Merlin's dark hair fondly. "You've been driving me to distraction all week."

Merlin chuckles a little, "Don't go blaming your lack of self-control on me."

"Lack of self-control? If I lacked self-control I'd have thrown propriety to the wind and pulled you into the nearest alcove every time you swanned by."

"I do not  _swan_  anywhere."

"Oh no, of course not. It's all very natural, the way your hips happen to sway whenever our paths cross."

Merlin bites his lip, blue eyes alight with mirth. "My sincerest apologies, Sire. It was never my intention to behave in such a dreadful manner. Allow me to make amends."

Gwaine swallows thickly as Merlin's sure grip on Arthur gets faster, tighter until it's wet and sliding noisily down his length. Gwaine feels entirely wrong-footed, like he's taken a wrong turn and has no idea how to find his way back. The coupling of two men is born of depravity. Such wickedness is against the natural order of things. How could his friends, both worthy of his utmost trust and servitude, be engaged in such deviancy? It's wrong; lust-driven and impure.

And yet his memory calls forth the way Merlin looks at Arthur like he's hung the very stars in the night sky, the way Arthur's ever-conscious of Merlin's safety and well being to an almost improper degree, and... he's not quite so sure. Their affinity for one another has always appeared organic and altruistic at its core; brought on by fate, its developed into a genuine friendship that transcends rank and social class. Could their relationship really be so perverse? He's uncertain. However, what he is certain of, without a doubt, is that they're good men. Men who hold kindness, loyalty and courage in high esteem just as he does. Men who have stuck by each other through thick and thin, when neither of them were obliged.

Men who are currently getting far more intimate than they should.

His brow furrows as his perspective shifts and his thoughts struggle to settle on a side. He should really just leave, do his best to forget about all of this and be on his way, but he's never seen two men together and the reality of it is undeniably intriguing.

His throat is tight as he watches Merlin rub his lips against Arthur's cock, mouthing at the wet crown as his hand continues its attention. Merlin’s tongue dips under the foreskin, avidly lapping up the early seed leaking from the tip, and Gwaine spares a thought to wonder if it tastes anything like the women he’s pleasured; whatever it tastes like Merlin certainly finds it agreeable. He runs his tongue against the slit, and Arthur groans at the sensation. With lidded eyes Merlin takes the swollen length between his moist lips. His lips stretch over half of the thickness, retreating for a moment to get his mouth wetter before opening for more. Inch after inch disappears into the heat of his mouth, his face an odd picture of ease that contrasts Arthur’s pleasure-harrowed expression. He hollows his cheeks as he moves back up, pink lips creating a tight suction that Gwaine can't help but imagine around his own cock. Merlin sucks him again, repeats the motion until he's got Arthur completely wet before trying to swallow the entirety. His throat visibly swells as it accommodates the large intrusion, the distention of it obscene. To Gwaine's mortification, the sight has him stirring in his breeches. He begins to harden as Merlin eagerly debases himself, finally taking Arthur deep as he can like an absolute  _trollop_.

"Yeah, come on, show me how much you love it."

Merlin hums his contentment, Arthur's cock hitting the back of his throat with every other stroke. He gags when Arthur's hips buck insistently, recovering with a finesse that suggests he’s had practice. Just how many times have they done this before? How many times has Gwaine run into a breathless blushing Merlin, or a decidedly disheveled Prince and not put the pieces together? He’s shocked that he hadn't seen their behavior- their  _bond_ -for what it was before now.

"That's it, Merlin. Such a good boy, you are."

Arthur's ruby ring catches the dull light from the window as his thumb caresses the bulge of his cock in Merlin's cheek. He's soaked now, the mix of Merlin's drool and his own fluids dripping down his balls. Arthur's head tips back, a low moan passing from his lips as Merlin's nose meets the golden curls of his groin. Merlin's Adam's apple bobs as his throat contracts and swallows around Arthur, and Gwaine feels another pang of arousal. Arthur's hips swivel up enthusiastically, body tensing as he starts to get close.

While Gwaine is used to partially associating Arthur to the occasional ribald talk he hears from the knights, seeing Merlin in any kind of sexual light is foreign to him. Stranger still is it to see him so subservient and indulgent of Arthur's desires. Merlin is strong-willed, stubborn when he wants to be; they know as well as he does that Merlin wouldn't be on his knees for Arthur if it wasn't exactly where he wanted to be.

Abruptly, Arthur pulls his dick free from Merlin's pout with a soft pop. Spit-shiny and firm, it throbs as Merlin rubs his face along it like a cat looking for a good petting.

"On the bed, Merlin."

He crawls up onto the mattress without question, Arthur moving over him and forcing him to settle horizontally across the mattress. Their mouths meet and the push and pull of it is deeper, more thorough than Gwaine would expect. If there is any doubt of whether they enjoy this _thing_  they have together it’s null in the face of the arrant longing with which they kiss. It's all-consuming, that raring grapple for closeness, and brimming with something far more profound than anything Gwaine's ever experienced himself. Soft pants permeate the air as their lips and tongues slide amorously, the enjoyment of thorough exploration taking precedence over urgency as they revel in the taste, pressure and harmony of it. Bodies slotting together closely, they delight in the lush, addicting taste of their mutual desire.

Arthur's hands cradle Merlin's face, thumbs caressing his jaw as he takes a moment to pull back and study him. The tenderness of his gaze suspends the moment; the pitter patter of rain against the window is distant, as is the kingdom and its citizens, while Merlin stares back and searches his face in return.

Slowly, Merlin’s mouth curves upward in a soft smile, Arthur's eyes silently conveying his affection. Then Merlin is gently bumping his nose against Arthur's, lips seeking to reunite with the parted ones before him once more.

"Touch me," Merlin whispers against his mouth.

Arthur obliges, ridding him of his red scarf so he can press his nose to Merlin's shoulder. He inhales along the path of his neck up to the place where it meets his ear, burying his face in the unruly black hair there. He takes a long moment to breathe in the boy's scent, a small rumble of pleasure coming from his throat. Turning back to Merlin's neck, he sucks a light mark onto the sensitive skin there. His hands venture beneath Merlin's faded blue tunic, and he quickly decides to shuck it up. Merlin closes his eyes as Arthur's fingers slide along his naval and up his sternum.

Soon Arthur's hands are roaming greedily over the ivory skin of Merlin's heaving chest. It's so _unnatural_  to see him palm at the lack of breasts there and yet Gwaine can see Merlin growing harder in his trousers. Arthur's clever fingers find a rosy nipple to play with and fondle to firmness. Surely a man could not enjoy such a thing? But no, Merlin grows lustier under the attention, his nipples raised and plump with pleasure like that of a woman. He becomes positively wanton when Arthur cups the small mound of flesh, licking around the areola and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud before suckling the whole of it. Shifting his attention to the other, Arthur envelops the stiff nub into the heat of his mouth, tugs at it gently with his teeth until Merlin's all worked up under him. Arthur's hand ventures down his slender body to press at the bulge in his trousers, and Merlin clutches tightly at his shoulders in response, hips hitching avidly for more friction.

"Off," Merlin breathes, wriggling his hips to direct Arthur while he rids himself of his shirt.

Arthur makes quick work of undoing the boy's breeches, yanking them down and off to expose his long legs and needy sex. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pumps it a few times before his mouth joins in. 

Gwaine is fully aware that those of the higher classes are still only human and as such aren't above the primal carnality of man, but to see Arthur -the  _Prince-_ engage in something as ignoble as oral sex (with a man no less) is confounding regardless. Although when he really considers it, he shouldn't be so surprised that Arthur would return the favor. From friendly competition to the battlefield Arthur is known to give as good as he gets. Why should sex be any different?

Merlin's drawn out moan is deeper and louder than Gwaine expects. His thighs tremble as Arthur sucks hard at his cock, tongue swirling around the velvety skin of the pink head and all the way down to his sack. Arthur's hand wraps around him, and he manages to thrust into his fist twice before Arthur's holding his hips down so he can pay proper attention to the sensitive skin of his balls. He takes them in his mouth as he strokes him, licks them until Merlin's fingers are suddenly pressing against his lips. He lets them in without question, sucking until they're pulled back from him. Gwaine watches curiously as Merlin's wet fingers move to touch himself, drifting lower and lower until they're rubbing firmly against his most private area.

"Merlin, don-"

Arthur stops short as Merlin shifts one of his legs up towards his chest, fully exposing himself. The deviant vulnerability of the position has Gwaine's breath faltering and Arthur squeezing at his prick to stop himself from finishing right then. Merlin's fingers fall back between his legs, spreading the delicate skin of his hole for Arthur to see. Circling around his damp cleft again, he gives a breathy sigh as his middle finger breaches his arse.

Arthur can't take his eyes away from the sight, grabbing hold of himself and rubbing at the slit of his cock. Gwaine feels a tingling heat rush to his face; he's sure there's a wet spot forming on his trousers.

Arthur's voice is strained when he speaks, "You know you shouldn't touch yourself there. We  _can't_."

Never has Gwaine seen anyone touched that way before; he hasn't any idea if it could be enjoyable. He watches Merlin's long finger move in and out with a large fascination and a small bit of disgust.

"But it  _aches_ , Arthur."

Merlin pulls his finger free, taking a moment to suck and moisten his pointer finger. He lets his legs fall open wider, and when his hand moves down again he's pushing not one but two fingers inside himself.

"Won't you help me?"

Arthur's mouth is slack, cheeks as pink as Gwaine's must be. It's visible the way his control is slipping, Gwaine can see it in the defeated furrow of his brows, the excited twitch of his fingers.

"Just my fingers then, yeah? We won't go any further," Arthur shakily concedes.

His large hands hold Merlin open, and as soon as Merlin's fingers slip free Arthur's mouth is on him. He licks Merlin wet, his tongue flattening against the twitchy muscle, diligently laving the dusky hole before delving inside. Merlin whines, his fingers twisting into blonde hair as his hips roll into Arthur's mouth. Gwaine watches in utter shock as Arthur sighs against Merlin's skin, kissing and licking at his core ravenously, dipping into him as deep as he can before forcing a thick finger inside him. They groan in unison at the feeling, but it only moves in and out a couple of times before Arthur pulls it free.

"Arthur-"

"Shh," Arthur hushes, kissing him silent. "I'm not stopping, we just need oil."

"I put it beneath my pillow. Hurry, Arthur."

By the time Arthur returns he's got the small vial open, dripping oil hastily onto his fingers. He wastes no time, promptly sinking his slick digits back into Merlin's waiting hole. The boy takes two easily, twisting and whining for it like a harlot. The third finger has him keening at the stretch, Arthur utterly fixated on the snug pull of his arse. His fingers curve and prod, finally pressing against something that has Merlin throwing his head back with a gasp, hips undulating on Arthur's hand with desperate abandon.

"You take it so well. 'S like you were made for this," Arthur praises.

His fingers move forcefully, rubbing against that special spot relentlessly until Merlin's shaking with need, Arthur's dick leaving clear trails of fluid against Merlin's thigh. With their bodies rocking against each other with increasing desire, all at once Gwaine understands exactly what direction they're headed. He's never seen it, hell he hadn't even believed it could be  _possible_  the one time he'd heard of it, but watching their mimicry of the act he knows where this can and will inevitably end up.

" _Please take me_."

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur warns, jaw tight with arousal. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to summon more strength than he has. "We shouldn't. We said we wouldn't, after the first time."

"But I want it so bad, Arthur," Merlin says, eyes dark with ardor. "Want to let my Master use me any way he sees fit, whether it's choking on his cock or being fucked full of it."

Arthur curses his frustration, Gwaine wholeheartedly concurring. He's sure Merlin could entice even a holy man with such lechery.

"Don't you want me?"

Merlin turns over flat onto his stomach, pushing his round little bottom up and shifting his legs apart for Arthur. He's spread out like an offering, a temptation only a worthy man may be privileged to indulge in. It evokes memories of the tales Gwaine heard as a child, wherein wicked creatures would beguile men, luring them to their deaths with their fey charm and beauty. His eyes trail over Merlin -the long-lashed eyes, the sculpted cheekbones, the full lips that are so often stretched into a winsome smile- and a shiver runs through him. Shaking the wild stories from his thoughts, he reminds himself that libertine or no, Merlin is still  _Merlin_.

Arthur strokes himself with shaky breaths, his flushed face stricken with tortured enjoyment.

"We just need to get it out of our systems," Merlin says softly. Gwaine's not quite sure what gives it away, maybe a flash of something in his eyes, but behind Merlin's pleading is the muted but confident expectation that he'll have his way.

"Just once more and we’ll swear off it for good," Merlin insists, nodding to himself for good measure.

Exhaling heavily, Arthur lets his length ride the dip of Merlin's rump.

"Tell me exactly what you want, and maybe you'll get it."

"...Wanna feel you  _deep_ ," Merlin confesses. "Want you over me, taking me 'til I can't walk. Gods, I wanna feel it for days."

"Keep talking," Arthur gasps, rubbing the bulbous head of his dick through the oil at Merlin's soft cleft.

"I'm so tight, Arthur. Surely you remember how it felt when you had me last. Couldn't even get your breeches off you were so eager to be inside me. You wanted it and I let you have it. I let you take me 'til I was dripping your spend."

And with that Gwaine's control finally snaps, and he can't give in fast enough. He unties the laces of his trousers, biting back a curse as he pulls himself free. He barely manages to stay quiet as he takes himself in hand, more sensitive than he remembers being in a long time.

Arthur follows suit; he swiftly grabs Merlin's waist and pulls him back, pushing him face down so he can position his arse up further.

"You'll be the death of me," he growls.

Gwaine watches with bated breath as Arthur runs his hands over the gentle curve of Merlin's bottom, kneading the muscles almost reverently. He slicks himself with a generous amount of oil, grabbing Merlin's shoulder for leverage as he lines himself up and carefully begins to breach the hot furl of flesh. The powerful resistance slowly yields under the blunt pressure, and Arthur's groan nearly drowns out Merlin's as he starts to sink in. Merlin whimpers as Arthur steadily spreads the puckered skin of his hole impossibly wide until it's smooth around his girth. Sword-calloused hands glide down his back, settling on his slim waist in a firm hold as Arthur stills halfway in.

"Merlin,  _relax_. If you keep squeezing me like that I'll finish before we start," Arthur admonishes.

Face pinched, Merlin breathes deeply a few times. His muscles are taut with tension but with a bit of effort they soon begin to relax, clenching and loosening for a long minute until he's supple and generous beneath Arthur.

"More," Merlin urges.

It's horrifically wrong how Arthur forces himself into the hungry clutch of Merlin's body, wholly sinful the way Merlin arches ardently for it, and yet Gwaine's body is stimulated nonetheless. He feels hypersensitive, wracked with a disconcerting anticipation. Having spent many an evening at cheap taverns he's more than familiar with the salacious whispers that travel across tables, talk of whores and debauchery spreading freely under the cover of night and too much ale, but only now does he truly understand the allure of perversity.

Arthur thumbs at the moist spot where they're joined, spreading the cheeks apart with his thumbs before driving the rest of his length home. A fervent whine slips past Merlin's lips as Arthur bottoms out, balls snug against the boy's damp taint. Their flushed bodies glimmer with sweat, the cool light coming from the window doing nothing to quell the heat that's taken hold of them.

Gwaine may not exhibit the most wholesome of traits at times, but honesty is something he's always commended himself on; to say he'd be averse to taking Arthur's place would be a lie. The realization is an unexplored thrill that manages to be confusing, rousing and shameful all at once. Flowing hair, full bosoms, wide hips... he's not known any other temptation. Never has he spared a thought for men regarding love or sex, and yet here he is stiff between the loose grip of his fingers at the sight of his very male friend about to be buggered, wishing he was the one to do it.

Merlin sucks in a breath through his teeth, pressing back with small motions that have Arthur moving in him shallowly. He grabs at his cock, giving it a few strokes as he takes Arthur fully again, their skin smacking lightly as his arse meets Arthur's rocking hips. Merlin makes soft, pretty noises when Arthur leans over him to pepper kisses along his shoulder blade. They move leisurely, the intensity of their intimacy enough for the moment. The hushed noises of pleasure are unbearably sensual, making Gwaine swallow hard. Merlin's fingers slowly fist into the sheets, the muscles of his arms tensing. Arthur's breath is hot against his neck, the slow roll of his hips intrusive and so, so good. 

He pulls too far back once and slips out. He spreads Merlin's legs further apart as he hastily presses the spongy head of his cock back to his fluttering hole, savoring the gripping heat that welcomes him. They share a messy kiss at an awkward angle, Arthur's hands cupping and squeezing possessively at Merlin's flat chest.

"Harder, Arthur."

Arthur's back and legs flex as he acts on Merlin's needs, his hands moving to hold the boy's arse in place as he takes him with rougher thrusts. Merlin's body accepts it, takes the full force of it with a furrowed brow, eyes shut against the onslaught. Slight as he is, the boy can certainly handle a good rut.

"Come on, Arthur, fuck me. You drill your knights harder than this," Merlin goads, surprising Gwaine yet again. "Think one of your knights would tup me, hmm? Perhaps I should try a tumble with-"

Instantly Arthur's got a handful of Merlin's hair, pulling his head back harshly. Arthur can't see the wild gleam in Merlin's eyes, but it matters nought because Merlin's thrown down a verbal gauntlet that Arthur wouldn't dream of refusing. Where Gwaine expects him to go faster he doesn't, rather he moves slower. He fills Merlin to the brim with precise, slamming thrusts, makes the boy gasp and quiver against it. Fully sheathed inside him, Arthur deliberately grinds against that  _spot_  that has Merlin catching his bottom lip between his teeth and writhing beneath him in a pleasure so acute it looks like pain.

Watching a man fall apart like that, so fully and unapologetically exposed, is  _exciting_. Seeing them cast aside society's govern of right and wrong as they give themselves over to their desires Gwaine experiences a sort of second-hand liberation, and all thoughts of shame leave the forefront of his mind.

It doesn't take too long for their pace to pick up. The urgency rises, the need heightening with every thrust that brings them together. Dual groans fill the space of the small room as Arthur goes faster, the atmosphere charged with the heady lust of young men, and Gwaine wishes he could say something,  _do_  something. As it is he can only thrust into his fist as he bears witness to their terrible, wonderful indulgence.

"Filthy thing you are, begging for it like that," Arthur says, watching his thickness drive in and out of the frothy juncture of Merlin's body. "No hands but my own may so defile you. You are  _mine_.Do I make myself clear?"

His arm wraps under Merlin’s waist and pulls him in closer so he can get deeper still. Hair disheveled and eyes fierce, Arthur looks wrecked. Merlin is dizzy with it, drunk on their passion.

"Answer me, Merlin. Or do you need further clarification?"

His inquiry is met with silence beyond Merlin's labored breath.

"So be it."

Arthur's hips snap forward with renewed vigor, the strength of years of training being put to good use as he pounds into him. The harsh smack of their flesh is loud and crude, rivaled in volume only by the incessant creaking of the bed frame. Merlin's hand falls back and grabs at Arthur's thigh as if it'll help anchor him to his small rebellion, but it's a losing battle. With a breathless whine he can't seem to hold back, Merlin lets go.

"I'm  _yours_ ," he cries.

"Are you, Merlin?"

Arthur doesn't relent, Merlin's sultry stream of  _uh, uh, uh_   punctuating each plunge of his engorged length into the tiny channel of Merlin's upturned arse. Arthur leans forward further until his bare chest is covering the length of Merlin's back; his mouth finds the shell of one of Merlin's ears and doesn't hesitate to lick and suck every inch it can.

Merlin nods fiercely, " _Yes_. I was born to serve you, Arthur."

Arthur moans against his shoulder, nipping at the pale skin there. "Tell me how it feels taking it like this."

"L-Like I'm being split apart inside - _uhn_ - fucked open on your cock."

"You love having your hole stretched wide on it, don't you," Arthur grunts. "Can't get off without having me inside you somehow."

Merlin sobs his arousal, his flushed face pressed to the sheets. Gwaine knows he should stay quiet lest they discover him, but he can no longer keep the slow pace on his prick. He's too hot, too frenzied to hold back. The wet, dirty sound of Merlin's cunt being filled, with the constant slapping of Arthur's heavy sack against his arse has him mad with want. For a moment he imagines stepping inside, forcing himself into Merlin's whorish mouth, testing the boy's endurance from both ends with his Prince.

He can tell Arthur is nearly there when he buries his face into Merlin's neck, humping rapaciously between the lewd spread of his legs. Merlin takes himself in hand, stripping his leaking cock with rapid strokes as Arthur nails him.

"I'm so close, Arthur, oh,  _oh gods_."

"Go on then, spill your seed. Let me feel it. Let me feel you come."

The intensity of Gwaine's desire swiftly peaks, and it's while Merlin shouts and paints the sheets with his pleasure that he finds his own completion, hot and brutal. Intense tremors run throughout his being as he watches Merlin shudder with the strength of his own orgasm. Merlin goes lax against the bed, basking in the heavy, resounding echoes of pleasure; glassy-eyed, he lets Arthur continue to use his limp body.

Arthur bites the soft flesh of his shoulder as he's finally thrown over the precarious edge of gratification. Merlin mewls beneath him, his little arse pushing back against Arthur, eager to take everything he has to give. Gwaine gets an extra pulse of pleasure in his groin imagining how Merlin must feel having Arthur's spend flooding his tender insides.

Chests heaving as they catch their breath, it's a couple of minutes before Arthur pulls out. He does so carefully, biting his lip at the sight of his seed leaking from Merlin's puffy hole. His thumb caresses the pink rim and rubs his semen into the skin there, his face full of private satisfaction.

Merlin is loose-limbed and content, his pleased murmur barely heard from where his face is nestled into the sheets. Heart still pumping faster than normal, Arthur gently turns him over and captures his mouth in a warm kiss. Their limbs snake around one another in a solid hold, as if someone might try to force them apart. They take refuge in one another as lovers do, ignoring everything that isn't the warmth of their sated afterglow; it's as if everything they have together, everything they feel, remains safe and secret, preserved from the world and its unfair woes as they lie close in that moment.

Pushing down a strange, hollow sort of feeling in his chest, Gwaine flees.

 

* * *

 

 

Even the wave of his shame crashing down over him full-force, the reality that he watched a man get  _sodomized_ ,isn't enough to douse the flame of arousal that burns in him at the memory. Replaying it over again in his head, it doesn't take long before he starts to imagine more, constructing pictures of different positions to feed his hungry mind. He imagines Arthur holding Merlin's knees to his chest as he impales him as deep as he can, Merlin bouncing on Arthur's lap and grinding his greedy arse down for more, Merlin sitting on Arthur's face getting his hole licked and fingered thorough enough to make him come without putting a hand to his prick.

Needless to say, he spends the next few days wanking himself silly.

And he feels heavy with guilt each time he does it, as if the burden of his shame is sitting on his shoulders weighing him down. It's difficult to not stare too long at the Prince or his servant, to not have to adjust his trousers so often, to act as he normally does without feeling as if everyone  _knows_.

He's uncomfortable watching Arthur and Merlin interact, painfully aware of how flirtatious their behavior is when one simply  _looks_. They dance around each other with their playful banter, their lingering touches, their single-sighted gazes that see too deeply; and he's stuck in the middle, too close for comfort but too far gone to ever return to his ignorance.

It's exactly four days later, when he's out sweating on the training field under the beaming sun, that his life changes in an unexpected, dizzying way once more. He's flipping his damp hair out of his face as he fiddles with his vambraces when a sudden presence beside him makes him jump.

"Just me," Merlin smiles, always so amiable with him and the other knights.

He takes over the tightening of Gwaine's vambraces naturally, having performed the same task for his Master dozens of times before. Gwaine distractedly studies the pommel of his sword, doing his best to will away the tingling feeling he gets where Merlin's fingers brush against his bare skin. It's rather difficult to do with the memory of those hands doing the most sinful of things seared into his mind.

He's already stared too long when he catches himself, and goes sheepish when he looks up to Merlin's calculating eyes. He licks his lips nervously, and Merlin follows the movement with quiet interest. Gwaine clears his throat awkwardly, but only ends up further unsettled when Merlin's resolute expression fails to go silly and carefree like usual.

"Is there something you need?" he asks, his tone not as light as it should be.

"There is, actually."

Merlin steps closer, as if to maintain the privacy of their words, though there's no one within ear-shot.

"Oh...?"

"I was wondering if you were planning on saying anything, or if you were just going to continue watching me."

The heat burning in his cheeks has little to do with the sun. His heart begins to race as his nervousness teeters on the cusp of anxiety. He takes a deep breath before replying.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come now, Gwaine. I think we're past that, yeah? No need to be shy."

His mouth is set in a grimace, body stock-still as if tensed for a blow. 

"Don't look so terrified," Merlin says, eyes shining with amusement as he pets Gwaine's hand reassuringly. "I'm not upset. Far from it, actually."

"But how did you...?" he asks, before he can make sense of that last comment.

"How did I  _know_?"

He nods.

"Really wasn't difficult to put together, with the way you've been acting as of late."

"That obvious, huh?"

"'fraid so," Merlin grins, leaning in a bit more. "So tell me, did you like what you saw?"

His gaze is full of intent, and it sends a frisson of lust through Gwaine. The instinctual denial quickly dies on his tongue, leaving him defenseless in the face of the honesty demanded from him.

"Y-Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I... I liked it."

The words tumble from his mouth, mortifying and exhilarating.

"...Did it make you hard?"

The Merlin he was first privy to days ago has come out to play, and he can't quite form a reply; his mouth goes dry, and if the words hadn't succeeded in rousing him the wicked smirk Merlin dons certainly does.

"..."

"Say it, Gwaine," he commands. "Say it made you hard."

"I-It made me," he swallows harshly, " _hard_."

He can feel Merlin's shaky exhale against his face, can see the way Merlin's hand discreetly shifts the material of his long tunic, and when exactly had Merlin gotten so close?

"Tonight, an hour after midnight, we'll be in the throne room."

"'We'?"

"Arthur and I. Just thought I'd let you know, if you happen to be interested in another show."

With one last lingering glance, Merlin is off as quickly as he came. Watching him go Gwaine knows he'll be trailing after him soon enough. If the last few days have taught him anything it's that resistance is futile when temptation beckons so.

Perhaps they'll have room for one more tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](http://merlinslittlebottom.tumblr.com/) if you'd like.


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